The Man Who Started it All
by Where is my wonderwall
Summary: All that Ibrahim had to do was tell a simple lie....


**The Man Who Started it All**

Note: this isn't meant to offend, merely to provoke some thought.

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The man who started it all was an unlikely fellow to amass such power.  Small and stoop-shouldered, with a scraggly beard and watery eyes, Ibrahim had thus far been a failure at life.  His farms had failed to become prosperous.  He had failed at courting, badly; he had never really had a chance of getting the woman he had loved, and so had to settle for the life of celibacy.  Failure was the measure of his life.

There was only one thing that Ibrahim did not fail at: speech.  Ibrahim, this scrawny man whose sandals were more dust than leather, who had never managed to take a wife even while women outnumbered the men in his tribe, excelled at it.  No matter if he addressed a crowd or a single man, Ibrahim could hold attention to what he had to say.  He could sway someone's opinion; he could make you believe wholeheartedly in what he had to say.

It was this ability that brought Ibrahim to the attention of Farouk as he prepared to take on the famed Canaanite tribe in battle.  It was surely a strange sight for the clansmen that fateful day: Farouk, the brawny, brutishly handsome king, taking this little mouse of a man—what was his name?  Abram?—to his own feast, letting him take his pick of Farouk's harem, treating him like a brother, before they engaged in a long and serious conversation in hushed voices.  The villagers could not hear exactly what they were saying, but could see that they had come to some kind of consensus by the end of supper.  All around, there was a sense that something important was either about to happen, or it already had, and they missed it.  It had something to do with Ibrahim, they were sure, but they could deem nothing else.

**

Two fortnights of intense fighting later, the Canaanites stood assembled before Farouk, their new king.  Ibrahim, his right-hand man, surveyed the crowd with a wary eye.  Newly defeated, they were ashamed and angry to be there.  His speech would have to be exceptionally good, or the plan would be worthless.  And the plan couldn't be worthless, because the plan meant everything.  For the first time in his life, Ibrahim felt the pressure of duty upon his thin shoulders, and for some reason, the burden made him swell up in pride and confidence.  He would not let his people down the first time they had trusted him with anything of importance.

Ibrahim stepped up onto the dais next to Farouk, his gaze cool and self-assured.  The Canaanites fell silent.

"Friends," he began.  "Yes," he assured them, "friends.  Comrades.  Fellow members of our anointed tribe.

"You have been living your lives in ignorance of the most important and universal truth, the truth which we have been blessed with for these past holy years under the rule of my king, Farouk, the Great and Holy.

"You see, many years ago, as I lay in my bed, a voice came to me.  This voice gave me a revelation which I shall now impart to you—a revelation which shall bring you either eternal happiness or eternal torture.

"This voice told me the wonders of a spirit who is more than a spirit; a spirit which is more than the universe.  A spirit which created the universe.  A God.

"This God, who is too important and powerful even for a name, was the voice that came to me.  And He told me that in turn for my tribe's allegiance, He would grant us eternal paradise.  He told us, any enemy of ours is a sinner; and He shall smite the sinners to eternal torment."  Ibrahim gave a slight smile before he spoke again.

"And so, Canaanites.  Do not so damn yourselves to torture in the afterlife.  Become one with our tribe, peacefully; follow our rules and decrees.  Believe in our god—no, not 'our' god, but 'God'— _the God.  The only true god.  And in return, you shall receive the fruits of God's generosity in company with Him after death._

"Choose good.  Choose paradise.  Choose God.

"Choose us."


End file.
